The giantess

Since she’d been about eight or nine, Megan had slept in the kitchen with her feet in the hall.

Her mother had started to suspect she’d be tall when, aged four, she’d outgrown her single bed. For a couple of years she’d managed diagonally in a double, but after a while there was no room in the house (which was, after all, only a country cottage built in a century when five foot was considered statuesque) that could contain Megan.

Aged twenty, she moved in with her long, tall boyfriend; they had four long, tall children, and one short one.

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